Unsystematic Collisions
by Miko-chan
Summary: A series of one-shots and shot-down ideas. Any pairings. Number four. This is his curse: Sasuke always knows what shall come to pass. Sasuke x Sakura gift-fic! for agent kuma-chan
1. of crazy plans and jelly fits : minakush

**title:** of crazy plans and jelly fits  
**challenge:** We've seen THAT before (the overused plot lines challenge)  
**prompts:**  
A and B are friends. A starts dating C. B is disturbed/enraged/distressed by the hookup. B eventually realizes that he/she is in love with A.  
Plus points: if C is a jerk, which is something B tries to point out to A. A eventually realizes she/he loved B all along.  
A is popular/attractive, B is not.  
**series: **Naruto (AU)  
**characters: **Namikaze Minato, Uzumaki Kushina, Uchiha Mikoto and Fugaku  
**rating:** PG 13, T

**16:36 hours, Friday**

Uzumaki did a series of things that a normally surprised female would do: Opened her mouth wide and closed them a few times then stared at her best friend of two years.

After a few seconds of comprehending what that small announcement was about, she screamed a single word.

"WHAT?"

Her raucous screech rebounded over the grimy tile walls of the restroom, along with the slap of two wet palms on the sink borders. She whipped her cropped auburn strands, accentuating the soft curve of her tightening jaw. Splashes of tap water drenched the edges of her long yellow sleeves and she ignored the sudden cold that permeated her skin.

Mikoto, who was already used to the exaggerated reactions from the red-haired woman, merely replied calmly as she continued on brushing her hair to the rear of her head.

"What?"

"Of all the things you would do, woman!" A pair of darkest jade irises narrowed in annoyance, leaning a bit closer to her indifferent friend, who was capping the slender tube of lipstick to a close and retuning it back to her leather purse. "_Him?_"

"Shut up, you loud-mouthed idiot." At this, Mikoto rolled her onyx orbs as her hands finally tucked in the last remnants of her ebony strands on the borders of her makeshift ponytail. Glaring at her companion through the heavily graffiti-marked mirror, she continued to speak as if Kushina was not currently murmuring vulgarities under her breath, tearing the paper towels that she dried herself with. "He's blonde. He's charismatic. He got those sky-blue eyes. And he can actually smile, you know, gently, unlike my _fiancé._" The well-known, demure primadonna of this stupid group enterprise merely gave an unlady-like snort, which was perfectly copied from the resident tomboy. "If I had a chance from the very start, I would've hit on Minato-kun—"

"Minato-_kun_, god, do you even hear yourself?" Kushina rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. "I thought you were smarter than me, with wide-forehead and all!"

"Is there anything wrong with me having a _little bit_ of a crush?"

"A crush!" The word was nearly spat as she placed her hands over her hips and sneered in reply. "Have you lost your mind, Mikoto? What were you thinking?! If Uchiha hears this, he'll surely—"

"—probably be sulky about it. Brood like what Uchihas do." Here, as Mikoto interrupted her friend's tirade as both of them usually do, she laughed out loud. Reaching over the other faucet sink, she turned the copper knob clockwise. "What's the big deal, anyway? You are over-reacting."

"I am _not_ over-reacting. I am just telling you that you are frigging crazy." At this, the dark-haired female gave an exasperated sigh as Kushina now started to prattle again and snatched the left hand bearing a magnificent diamond-studded platinum band on the ring finger, almost shoving the appendage to Mikoto's face. "You are having a date, and you're _engaged_. And most of all, he's our boss. It's unethical!"

"Unethical?" Retrieving her hand back from the flustered woman, Mikoto grimaced at how she had underestimated Kushina's reaction. "Who are you to talk about ethics when you basically break every single policy—"

"He's _Jiraiya-sensei's protégé_!" The stress on that particular name, who was a world-renowned erotica writer and journalist of legendary voyeuristic escapades around the world, made it apparent that fact alone was enough explanation for her aggravation. "What if that _moron_ tries to get into your pants?!"

"Well, I'm going to wear a skirt. So it'll be easier."

"…you just didn't say that."

"If you are going to be so uptight about this, Kushi-chan" There was a frown marring her features as Mikoto pushed the swinging door open, ignoring the shooting icicles from those frosty, green glower. "Then why don't you go out for a date with Fugaku? I'm sure you'll find monosyllabic conversations very, very pleasant."

"I swear," The shrill, foreboding voice echoed through the corridors as Kushina stomped to the other direction. "I'm going to pray to the heavens that your spawns takes after Uchiha, cursing them to eternal silence forever. At least he's got brains."

"I love you too, honey." The following giggling response came from the opposite side of the hallway.

X

**16:48 hours, twelve minutes after the first conversation**

_You'll always be a part of me; I'm a part of you indefinite—_

The song got cut off by pressing a callused thumb over the green call button. A taciturn, dark-haired man answered his mobile phone with a grunt, disrupting the flow of his fingers over the keyboard. His glass frames reflected the glare of the luminescent monitor, which was the only source of light within the gloomy room, aside from the leaking late afternoon sunlight from the blinds, slightly illuminating the carved name of the Police Superintendent on the anterior view of the table.

"Uzumaki."

His other free hand continued its progress of typing efficiently.

"I'm still at work."

Then he impassively took the receiver away from his ear when an obnoxious, reprimanding holler was heard through the whole department.

"—frigging HELL that you're still working your numb ass on your frigging office! News flash, you BASTARD, Miko-chan is going to commit ADULTERY and how come you're so CALM and ALOOF and OH SO COOL about that while she'll probably get herself impregnated by that surely freaking PERVERT—"

"I'll meet you at six. In front of that ramen stand, near the waterfront, in front of Kyushu University"

"UCHIHA, are you even listening to me, you big ice block of—what?."

"It's in between a Chinese restaurant and a videogame shop." The frustrated young man carefully instructed, as if talking to a retarded being. Then he glared fiercely at the sneaky glances of the rumormongers who drifted pass his office, their heads ducking out of his sight perimeters once they have felt the alarming aura of his stare. "I'm going with you."

"So we're going to follow them after all? I KNEW IT! You were JEALOUS! You really love her, DON'T YOU FUGAKU-KUU—"

He slid the phone shut with a snap, then tossed it to the waste bin beside him.

X

Wearing some inconspicuous black attire, composed of a dark slim top and cargo pants with a pair of shades, Uzumaki Kushina was pretty sure that tailing a certain couple on a date would be quite easy, especially if she's accompanied by the stealthy, stalking abilities that all Uchihas possessed.

That is, if that dim-witted, shameless man would ever show up.

As she swerved the straps of her bulky messenger bag in between her shoulders, she infuriatingly glanced at her wristwatch, which told her that it's already seven o' clock.

And that meant her (air-headed, blasted!) friend was going to be picked up at work. Damn, where was that blasted Uchiha? She had tried calling him thirty minutes ago, yet there was no response from him, as

The truth was, she really didn't dislike that courteous blonde-haired chief of theirs. She was just annoyed because he was too intelligent,

_("Uzumaki, don't you think it's a bit dangerous to drink coffee in one sitting? Then inhaling Ramen afterwards?")_

too purpose-driven,

_("I'm currently having a side job, teaching some kids, so take my shift for the meanwhile, Uzumaki.")_

too strict for her taste.

_("Your hair is too short, Uzumaki. You're a female representative for this project. Shouldn't you add a little length?")_

Namikaze Minato was a force to reckon with, and he was too goal-oriented, putting the interest of their work first even before eating any donuts for breaks. And women were attracted to him like crazy (Darn you, Mikoto.). And he acts so smug and he's just so creepily perfect for a blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, _(nearly)_ six footer lad.

However, all that respect and adoration just hurled down and sunk into the stinky mud when he asked Mikoto out.

There was a possibility that he might be a pervert, or a womanizer, or something that degrades female dignity. Some of the perversity from that white-haired lecher could have rubbed off him. And that makes her female buddy in great danger of being humiliated, when she's already happily affianced to a man who truly adored her _(secretly, of course.) _

_And I'm planning to push that marble-faced idiot to do something. Since it's about time that they move up to the second base, that prude—_

Grumbling to herself that this situation would have been avoided if the Superintendent of the Police Force would just gather those remaining guts of his and just swept off Mikoto away and be married, Kushina resorted to actually forgetting the whole spying plan if that prude would actually stand her up.

Wryly twitching the corners of her lips in irritation as she schemed, she suddenly froze on her spot when she saw a mop of intense butterscotch spiky hair amidst the sea of bustling people. With a gasp, the short-haired woman, whose bright crimson strands were hidden beneath the encompassing downward slope of the coal-colored bucket hat, pulled the brim of the cotton apparel and tried to avoid being seen by getting inside the flaps of the cream-white stand.

"Crap, he's taking her to a Chinese restaurant? I thought he had more taste." Subsequently, she then turned at the surprised middle-aged cook, who turned to her while stirring some tangy broth. Hastily ordering while settling herself comfortable on the plastic stool, she rummaged through her pockets some spare yens. "One bowl of miso ramen. Quickly, ah—"Green irises spotted the name on his tag in a quick peek. "Teuchi-san."

"Right on, Miss!"

And then she heard heavy footsteps, that cheery timbre of a light tenor, and a body settling a seat beside her.

"I'll have an extra bowl too, Ossan!"

"Sure, Minato-kun."

And at that point, she was immobilized from taking the three hundred yen, her limbs stiffened and her jerk reaction was to turn towards the newcomer.

"Oh, didn't see you there, Uzumaki!"

With a nervous grin pasted on her façade, she apprehensively greeted Namikaze Minato, who perched his elbows on the red, glazed counter and was balancing his chin in the middle of his tangled fingers. Glass cerulean eyes were expectant as she managed a weak "Sir?"

_Okay, what's happening here and where's Mikoto-cha—_

"I'll pay for her share, Ossan! And make it the large one for the both of us!"

Then in that rare sudden flash of intuition (_that she didn't usually have_), Uzumaki Kushina, the not-so-brightest person in their team, finally understood.

And in a startled blink of an eye, Kushina stood up and roared.

"WHAT'S THE FREAKING MEANING OF THIS?"

"Taking opportunities." He shrugged his shoulders and merely gave that toothy roguish grin.

Kushina was about to say that he was extremely egoistic if he thought that she, the Uzumaki!, would give in to this humiliating prospect of dating him when the kind cook suddenly settled a rather tantalizing mix of sweet corn, butter, bean sprouts, finely pieces of soft pork and creamy swirls of garlic with bits and morsels of assorted seafood like scallops, squid, and crab.

"Sit down." As the dark porcelain bowl was placed in front of them, her companion calmly picked two pair of chopstick and gently flicked the other one to her. "You hate your ramen cold."

And because it was free, and maybe she was more hypnotized with the scent of seafood broth and starchy noodles, she grouchily sat back and snapped the two wooden utensils apart.

At least, she's wearing pants.

And she totally could deck him to the asphalt-embedded ground if he instigated some inappropriate move.

With a tentative smile, Uzumaki Kushina finally surrenders to the tenuous silence and ate the ramen.

X

**20:23 hours  
**  
_Ooh baby, you can't escape me, oooh darling, cause you'll always be my ba—_

"You threw your phone in the trash, again, didn't you?"

As the mid-line of the chorus was finally stopped, Uchiha Fugaku rumbled a "Hn" when his six-month old fiancée waltzed in breezily inside the office with a beaming smile on her face. Standing in front of his paper-swamped table, Mikoto shook in light laughter.

"Quiet."

"Well, we've done him a favor." Blowing a gust of air and with an irresistible pout, the twenty-eight year old professional tapped her rose-painted, manicured nails on the wooden desk, a thoughtful smile on her face. "Having someone as dense as Kushina is quite problematic, I hope he didn't screw his chances."

"Resorting to such methods is unlikely." Veering the swirling Aeon chair to the side, he stood up from his seat and took the car keys, jingling on his palm. "It's juvenile. Childish."

"You're just grumpy that he managed to get promoted faster." The grinning, mischievous woman merely grabbed the coat and settled them on the broad shoulders of her partner.

"At least," A teasing smirk made way on his lips, a hint of that cocksure arrogance in that silent proclamation. "I'm getting married first."

**written may 10/08, 0435-1547. first draft**

I've read in assorted Naruto-related information that Naruto takes more after his mom, meaning that she'd be probably obnoxious, loves to eat ramen and slightly dense. And she was known to be tomboyish in the start. While Minato (Yondaime) was more of a intelligent, hard-working man but was very charming and approachable.

Ichiraku Ramen is really a true place, found in front of the Kyushu Sangu Gaidan, in between a Yakiniku restaurant and a video game store. And whenever you order ramen from their stall, they give free Naruto handkerchiefs. (I wanna eat there.)

I don't know how if this ended up following the prompt. TT Or this was enough. And I was planning to continue it, but I'm exhausted. (Done in the last minute, as usual.)

This is for who made me interested to the OT4: **allurement** and **ohwhatsherface**. I don't know if I did them justice, or if I'll continue this. XD

Thanks to **Kawaii Ice Cream **and **BlueGreenApples**. They saved me. And to Lala and Midge: You made me crazy.


	2. scented paper : itachi x sakura

**scented paper**  
_--a dead poet lurks in every heart--_  
giftfic! for **epiffannie**  
_itasaku_

* * *

"Um, excuse me?"

Taking off his absorbed attention from the huge amount of explaining text _(--choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than--)_, the bespectacled man turned to a perplexed individual who gently tapped his shoulders from behind.

A female freshman was biting her lip nervously, and then she gathered enough courage and asked.

"Do you know what time--?"

"Quarter to twelve." He replied curtly.

"Thank you." She responded, the disappointment clearly made its way to her face.

His impassive stare was hidden beneath the soft golden glint of his thickly-rimmed glasses. He scrutinized her dainty fingers that fiddled with the edges of the delicately wrapped booklet, a telltale sign of anxiety. The young woman was probably sixteen, four years younger than him, quite petite in form and looked comfortable in a red cardigan sweater and black denims.

Then he suddenly recognized the mint-hued eyes, her light strawberry tresses that was messily held up behind the crown of her head and that almost pale face.

"Take a seat." He inclined to offer, the flash of exhaustion apparent on her features.

Helplessly looking at him, her slightly wide forehead then furrowed as to contemplate if she should accept the suggestion. She complied in the end, scraping the metal ends of the chair against the brick floor.

A tenuous, viscous silence hung between them, which remained unbroken for five minutes.

They were both sitting on the provided tables from the open cafes that usually littered outside the university campus avenues. A couple of people still lingered on the premises, but it was obvious that it was because they believed that it was romantic to meet up at midnight.

He was absentmindedly flipping a page when she spoke timidly.

"I'm Sakura."

His lips minutely twitched in amusement.

"What are you doing here alone," His articulation was fairly smooth, like raven feathers, even though there was no trace of real curiosity in the inquiry. "in the middle of the night?"

"Well," Her eyes somewhat widened, surprised with the interrogation. "I was waiting."

He then closed his book to indicate that he was listening.

"But I guess, he wasn't really serious about it."

The twenty year old dark-haired man was about to ask when she gave a tremulous smile.

"So, you chose to read _The Prince_ before Valentines? That's rather cold-hearted."

"It's necessary."

"But you've been probably reading it again." She pointed the white creases that formed on the brown-paper bound spine. "I'm scared that you find Machiavellian doctrines rather interesting."

"You find it frightening?" He found that idea amusing.

"_The end justifies the means_, the book insists." She lowered her voice in shudder. "That statement created a Hitler."

"That's how a ruler should think." His flint-shaded orbs, though concealed with the elongated dark locks and the refraction of his spectacles, were intensely observing the very engaging female. "It's for the greater good."

Then she laughed, propping an elbow on their mahogany table. "I don't believe this." Turning her attention towards the pairs that walked along the sidewalks of the avenue, Sakura sighed wistfully. "I'm discussing political philosophies with some stranger in an unknown area because I'm that pathetic for some company tonight."

He wisely kept silent and observed the dejected expression that marred her features.

"You are a hopeless romantic." It was stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I'm more of a hopeless case." She exhaled a shaky breath, as if wishing that the night would just end. "Is it already midnight?"

He merely responded with calm affirmative.

With an apologetic grin, she moved to finally leave her seat.

"I should be already going then."

He merely cocked his calculating gaze.

"You're not going to wait for him any longer?"

She bitterly laughed at that, as if there was an ironic joke in that statement.

"I was already expecting this, actually."

Then she returned her gaze to the other individuals that surrounded the perimeters of the avenue, who were already occupied in their teasing words, cooed endearments and crimson chocolates underneath the pliant brush of the lamp light.

"A hopeless romantic, indeed."

She was suddenly shaken out of her saddened reverie when her recent acquaintance perused the first leaf of her supposed-to-be Valentines gift.

His fingertips skimmed over the neat handwriting of _'Sonnets of the Portuguese'_, and with the tear-stained words of inscribed dedication on the top: _To Sasuke-kun._

Sakura probably knew that the affectionate well-made verses that she wrote originated from the collected correspondences of a frail lady with a younger, amorous man. The weaved rhythmical phrases in this literary piece were made in secrecy, written in perfumed stationary in order to express the true depth of their emotions.

They were probably too _appropriate_ in her (_their_) situation, and the thought to give something more substantial than the usual chocolates and _(he then knew that his foolish little brother was absurd.)_ tomatoes was very like _her_.

He took off his glasses after skimming the first lines of _Sonnet Forty-Three_ and focused his dark enigmatic gaze on her puzzled expression.

"Wait," She gaped, as her book was returned back to her trembling hands. "I know you."

"Yes?" He politely asked, as he grasped his own reading material in his hand.

"Uchiha Itachi?!" Then she comically ogled at him as his patrician features were fully enlightened with the waning yellow neon lights from overhead. "You're his older brother!"

"Of course," He merely replied patiently.

"Why—"

"You didn't ask my name."

"You don't look like you're his brother at all!" She exclaimed after her few minutes of stupefied silence, earning a few open stares from the surrounding people around them. "I mean, your pictures, they were absolutely different from what I saw in his dormitory when we studied together—"

_Oh? Is that a slip?_

"—and you were striking! Even pretty! Like a woman!"

He cut her off rather abruptly. "My brother is waiting for you."

"What?"

"You know that he's currently busy at the moment." She could at last see the prominent lines on the sides of his pointed, aristocratic nose. "But it doesn't mean that he won't use any means to meet up with you."

"Oh."

She flushed.

Then she frowned.

"Why didn't you say anything to me before?"

"You were interesting."

And then he paced towards a parked onyx-painted car on the nearby corner, letting Sakura follow him resignedly.

* * *

**firstdraft**:02/14/08

I really don't know how to continue the story here. And even though I tried to make it into itasaku, I just couldn't help to add the sasusaku hints.

Hmmm, maybe if I got bitten by inspiration again?


	3. and he yearns : sasuke

**title:** and he yearns  
**series:** Naruto  
**rating:** T (some swearing and graphic descriptions)  
**characters:** Sasuke, Itachi, Naruto, Sakura  
**genre:** Angst. General. Hurt/Comfort.  
**summary:** the future mingles with the past, as Sasuke tries to think while dying. [**Sasuke-centric :** **gift-fic! for sakuraxkisu**]

**i.  
**  
_**:summer drizzle:**_**  
**  
He was not trying to reminisce those days, when the scent of the humid rain

(_a storm is coming_)

made him wonder if there was another way that had ended this. That type of melancholia was fatal, as the edges of danger had hardly passed.

(_But it is finished, the first act is done and like a tragedy, you would surely reach the pinnacle of this ill-fated destiny._)

Tendons achingly burned, despite the soothing drops of rain that had doused him. His sore, wounded limbs trembled, the strength to hold you diminishing as you slid down towards the damp, rough earth. The thick, viscous blood trickled from the middle of your brow like a bordering thin line where your sanity would finally be gone, a stigma of his foolishness.

Even if his providential (_or damned? You couldn't tell._) sight can foretell every nuances of a coming strike, he did not see this coming.

(_You murdered the man who killed your family and the brother who sought to protect you._)

And he certainly did not predict that he will be here, feeling emptily victorious.

Thus he becomes a specter, haunting his old memories, trying to revive what supposed to be buried.

**ii.**

_**:autumn gales:**_**  
**  
The russet leaves, tinted of bronze—like clotting blood—scatters the area.

He was sitting on the swing; those tanned, rough small hands were grasping the frayed, rough swirls of the rope.

The dead last was surrounded with figures, of small hands being held by warm, large fingers. Linked tight, arms swaying and smiles

(_which both of them wish, wish, wish that it just consume them in its intensity_)

were plastered on their faces.

His luminous sky-eyes burn, like there is a sun that shone inside the orbs.

Then he descends from his seat, and runs towards others, no matter how condescending those stares were on his clumsy run.

He still stays underneath the night-like silhouettes.

**iii.**

_**:winter blizzard:**_**  
**  
Pale, pale face, with eyes brilliant like a full-bloomed meadow, peered up to you.

_You expect them to shimmer, flooded in trembling fear, in watery grief._

Her bottled green eyes just witnessed something that she will see for a million times, and he had seen for a million times.

Dead carcasses of people, humans, scattered, are staining the pristine velvet spread of snow.

She opened her mouth to ask, as the kindling twigs cracked under the embrace of her lithe arms.

But she shook her head, the uncharacteristic hesitation making him wonder what the question would be.

Blazing fires engulfed the thin scraps of wood the both of you chipped from some fallen lumber.

Burnt flesh and splintered feet. Jagged cuts and flowing blood. Death gives birth to anew.

_It's all becoming familiar._

You expect her to crack, assume her to break.

(_like him, like him_)

After all, she is twelve, still young, a child.

(_they were supposed to be children_)

Her eyes sparkles of muted green clarity, surely that she never had seen such damage of this magnitude.

Instead, she stares at the dead with lips thinned, like a grave deity vowing, determined as the glaze of the flames lingered on her resolved gaze.

(_i shall not let thee perish, i shall resurrect thy life._ she promises something promising as she whispers wordlessly)

The silence was ringing, and though she survived (_when_ _both of you should be dead, dead_), you felt that there is no heart beating in her chest.

**iv.**

_**:spring festival:**_**  
**  
They erupt, light tainted with colors of the darkest midnight, scented earth, coarse wood, scalded skin and burnt bonds.

The acidic scent of sulfur irritates the surface of his (_nearly blind, darkening_) eyes. Ashes, gray and carbon flecks, rains upon the field of rotting, detoriating corpses. And as the pain burst colors under your lids like sporadic fireworks of gold and yellow, combustible from the combination of flesh and sweat, blood and ache.

The soot smears on his cheeks, with the metallic-earth stain of blood mixing with his trailing perspiration.

Like fiery copper flames, burning, scalding and exploding, the night sky scorches.

And as slowly as the life drips away from you, time becomes nothing and you welcome that comforting cold.

Then hands shake you awake. They deafen you.

_Bastard! You fucking wake up and don't ever, __**ever**__ die here!_

and even the faintest of hint of plea, almost inaudible, was pounding blood to your ears.

_Sasuke-kun, please!_

The shades of bitter crimson (_hate_) and hues of abusive purple (_envy_) choke you.

He spits on their faces and shouted from his blood-covered mouth that he does not need their help.

(_Betrayed! Traitor! All of them._)

But they are fools, stubborn fools.

Fools that

(_have, are and will always_)

follow you, even to the burning entrails of the earth.

So instead of listening to your logical (_irrational!_) screaming explanation why you don't need their fucking, outreaching hand, she grabs your broken arms with the strength you try to ignore and he implants your shaking feet to the muddy earth.

He scowls.

Then he punches your face and feels the jaw hinges crack.

He grimaces as she heals your wounds and feels the sting of your flesh stitch together.

They stand beside you once more and they made sure that you will not turn your back on them

(_you are not out of your mind to do_ that, _as they clung to you like memories_.)

as soon as the melee of war ends.

**unbetaed | sept052008**  
__________________

As iulia kept on writing canon (_when she should be, er, writing something else -cough-_) and mrie wrote those inspiring fics, I knew that my muses needed to be reawakened somehow. I remembered that I should be giving sakuraxkisu a Sasuke-centric fic back then, so I tried to rewrite one of my old, written works in my Skills notebook

Comments, criticisms and violent reactions are very appreciated~!


	4. saviors : sasuke x sakura

**title:** saviors  
**prompt:** "This is the song that never ends", flying, pokemon  
**pairing:** SasuSaku  
**au:** demonslaying!Sakura + normal!Sasuke  
**notes:** done since o7 of 2010, tried a new style. reedited. be warned of the confusing ambiguities. criticisms and questions are always welcome.  
**requester:** _smakn_ in eljay / _agent kuma-chan _in the ffdotnet (for you, you lovely girl.)

* * *

**i.  
start  


* * *

  
**Sasuke knows Sakura.

he knows of:

her timid insecurities / her clever mind \ her weak facade / her painful right hook \ her teeny boppy attitude / her happy, complete family \ her spoiled, only-daughter status / her caring fragile heart

- her blessed perfect life -

that will end after fourteen months.

he knows what lies in the future for her, but he is only a familiar, brooding boy from the neighborhood. the dark-haired adolescent who sat a seat between _uzumaki_ (on his right) and _haruno_ (on his left) the second-best son from an affluent clan of this country.

he adores tomatoes \ he listen to acoustic rhythms on late night radios / he befriends blond idiots and pink-haired crying girls \ he excels in everything / he misses his family \ he secretly wishes that he did not have _these eyes_

- he is normal -

as normal as an eleven-year old seer can be.

no matter how she giggles like a carefree child, he knows that this scene will not come easily in the next years to come.

the creatures in the monitor kept on retaliating each other with elemental attacks. naruto kept on groaning about his defeat and bragging that he was _taking it all easy, sakura-chan! because i am a gentleman_ as the dumb idiot kept on nearly destroying the analogue.

_pokemon!_ she huffs, affronted. she discards the controller to the side and sits up as she reaches for a green-tea pocky. _we're living in a time where there are real creatures outside the city gates waiting to devour us and we are playing these! you are so absurd, naruto!_

_but sakura-chan! i-i-i!_ he stutters like a certain girl she knew, that spent a lot of time with the idiot for quite some time now._i thought they were cute and look at them and you defeated me using a jigglypuff!_

unknowingly, as naruto flailed, the lanky tanned arm knocks off her mug of lukewarm chocolate.

two pairs of irises, gray and green, blink in a second.

the sole drop of hazelnut disappears beneath their long shadow stains on the lifeless white rug.

sasuke catches the handle, and stares at the pale pink nails stark against the dark ceramic.

sakura catches the base, and opens her mouth to exclaim her surprise on this astonishing reflex.

but naruto catches himself, and says a litany of apologies to her, breaking the tense little moment where the pads of her fingers brushes faintly on his taut, pale knuckles.

sasuke says nothing, but makes sure that the cup is secured on her palm before he allows to let her vent out about hyperactive moronic half-brothers.

* * *

**ii.  
triangle**

* * *

now:

- when the pale crimson moon shines, it is only once after twenty nine days.  
- there are no starry lights strong enough to cut through the heavy swirls of smoke that enveloped the cities.  
- in the capital, he sees human-like _desmodus_ that sprawled the alleys and scaly winged _diaemus_ that flocked over horizons.  
- _uchiha-keibu_ is tasked to keep this dying city alive.

it was already five years since he had seen his hometown, where he spent evenings with the burning red leaves and the starry skies, listening to her old songs that came from a forgotten time, as they gathered around the makeshift bonfire on a long stretch of sands. the wind would be a welcoming cold embrace on that unforgettable last day of summer.

_He Opens His Eyes And Realizes He Is Dreaming_

sasuke rapidly turned his neck to his now open window, greeting his sudden intruder with the tip of his revolver.

sakura draws the blinds shut, before her wet form collapses on the couch.

(her arms are clear of any scars and her face is still so young. he almost believes that she's still _human_. but the delicate hands, that are wrapped in blood-crusted velcro, now holds the familiar old blade.

that weapon once lived quietly on the _shirasaya_ of his former grand home back in kyoto. )

then she asks:

_are you alright?_

and he answers:

_are you?_

her brows frown in irritation, and she hisses an almost curse. the sound of it was gone by the crackle of the fireplace that warmed their backs.

when sakura lies on her back, and blankly gaze at the plaques of honor and the gleaming name plate of _commissioner_ on his oak desk, her voice now full and strong, says _uchiha_

to him, she does not smell of blood and tears. she is rainwater and incense, devoid of salty tears and mortal scent.

sasuke had always known, and this is the first time that she finally approached him with this.

_can you still remember the old days?_

(_i don't understand, _she asked him with a hiss, her palms almost as red as the field of corpses behind her, _why do you need to leave, sasuke-kun?_ )

_naruto used to_ she says with her head turning to the ceiling, the soft curves of her right cheek prominently white against the shadows. _play these rpgs. and there was this one, where you have to kill the man-eaters. naruto was so frustrated that he had to use cheat codes._

(_please i-i don't want to be alone._

he continues to walk away, leaving her made sure that she would not be able to stand.

_please, sasuke! please!_

she would not run after him.

not now._  
_

_DON'T LEAVE ME!_)

_but_ she begins lightly, with a smile on her face that almost twisted her trembling irises, deep and darker than any greens he had ever seen. _when you're already playing the game seriously. you can't really cheat._

sasuke wants to say _thankyou / sorry / i'mhere_. but this time tonight, as she shudders clutching his _kusanagi_ desperately, he knows he created this _sakura_, a stranger.

you never let strangers in, no matter how familiar they are.

* * *

**iii.  
square**

**

* * *

**  
_taka, taka_ they called him (kzzt.) _...all of...them...evacuated and on the hangar...hordes of those monsters are..._

it is already a second too late before he finally turns the dial to a close. the static rouses her as he watches her lids flutter awake from a wistful dream, revealing green mirrors that reflect not the endless evening, but a faux starry sky. they are now above the dimming city lights, they lie on beneath the shade of an enormous fire tree, with its branches gnarled and waiting for its crimson tears to fall.

silence enshrouds them and the wind is quiet, no longer cold, but humid and scorching on his skin.

her fingers link to his, chaining them to her.

her own hands are cold, yet it warmed his skin. some unnamed heat radiated from that simple touch, when her thumb traced a line on his palm. the dead grass on his back prickled, but he paid no attention as she shifted closer, her body curled against him.

_she should have been down there_, sakura will probably protest or complain after she realizes that she is not wrapped safely with the cocoons of his silk sheets from his office/only home that she had. she will be insisting to defend a city that she had no responsibility to save.

because of this, her weapon was not strapped on her waist this time, as it was clutched tightly on his left hand, preventing her to reach for it.

_why_ after a long minute, the words were spoken beneath the shelter of his shoulder. _why did you bring me here?_

"People are gathering on the North bridge." he easily slid his hands beneath her knees, and pressed her to his torso as he stood up in one fluid movement. he starts to walk to the abandoned, dilapidated hut near the border with a grim resolve.

"I have to-"

He tried to be soothing, but the assuring words are almost faded on her ears.

"The city will burn, after a minute."

tired and exhausted, she finally slept for the first time as flames danced beneath the stirrings of an old nightmare

* * *

**iv.  
cross**

* * *

sasuke had seen sakura kill, so watching it again silently made his hackles rise—

(_once upon a night, sasuke picked up his sword._

_and gone was naruto, of his blue eyes and bright smile. in front of them was a damned boy with glowing crimson eyes and elongated fangs that snarled and ripped each throat that came within arms reach, as the hellish spirit haunting the whole campus promised a painful demise to everyone in that terrifying afternoon._

_sasuke had to kill him, but he froze in the last minute as the images of his mother / father / brother / brother...every single _fucking_ member of his family / friend / loved ones die before his very eyes, in flashes of endless memories, from one lifetime to another. his hands and oh _gods_ why does he have to do this again for all eternity._

_sakura yanks the hiltless blade and strikes naruto's heart._)

—as her hair flamed like a bleeding pink sunrise and her eyes filled with determination.

he had watched how expertly she flipped the head, the decapitated piece flying in a wide arc. its body skidded for a few meters before it splattered on the dead trunk. the half of its vertebrae came with it, with its splinters gleaming like dark seeds on the stained cement.

when a demon had escaped past her, and saw him behind a crumbling statue (_an angel with its one wing cut off and its face was in tears and agony_), the creature stretched its scaly wings, reached with its long unfolding claws and gaped its jaw wide, ready to devour him.

But its greatest mistake was to meet his blood red eyes.

In an instant, the graveyard experienced its first ash fall.

_**sakura**_

she straightens her spine  
proud, but a little worn. the ground that surrounds  
them becomes ice-white  
but the ground on her feet darkens  
she lets out a sigh on her lips  
and (_hidden tears_) acceptance on her eyes.

_**sasuke  
**_  
he merely stands.  
gun not drawn, face indifferent  
lips straight  
his eyes, his eyes dark dark dark  
when it should be as red as her form.  
and the fading gray (_turning crimson_) on her feet.

she walks to him, flicks the blood away from the edges and slides it easily on the scabbard. her footsteps are hollow, light.

this _sakura _bows her head to him, as it is the first of their meetings, barely remembering the last when she was (_his_) sakura.

"Thank you."

she says, awkward.

(_"You should have been me."_

Sakura will never tell that to him. She will never blame him. She might one day whisper to his ear these painful things: her hatred, her anguish and her darkness, but she will never, ever blame him for the hell she is experiencing. She will writhe and collapse on him one cold hour, and surrender to the insanity that constantly plagues the edges of her mind. Her nails will always be stained crimson as she picks up his burden, and there will always be a pleading, heart-breaking smile on her lips.

But in the end, Sakura will always take up his sword because even if Sasuke had seen her future, she had seen his.

He would never kill again. Not his family again. And he is selfish to let the world suffer.

This is what he hated her the most. She can sacrifice her own heart for him.)

"_Thank you_."  
these two words were spoken three times:

naruto's last breath.  
(_she stuck the blade to his suffering heart_)

sasuke's farewell.  
(_he tried to delay her inevitable fate by stealing the sword_.)

sakura's greeting.  
(_she finally understood that she inherited his tragedy._)

she disappears that night, away to the place where the meadows and leaves turn ruby red and yellow gold.

he doesn't follow.

(_he knows. he always knows_)

she'll come back to him.

* * *

**v.  
circle**

**

* * *

**  
Sakura listens to the strumming of an old guitar, as She sings softly the old lyrics from a forgotten decade _if i could soar i would try, to take these wings and fly._

it is already summer again, and She drowns Her eight o clock evenings on lemonades till the secondhand strikes six. he wishes for rainy days where the sky would clear the heavy smog and let them see the stars.

thus, as She stands  
Her back to him,  
and cleaning Her hands on the sink,  
sasuke does his single act of kindness.

he takes his blade. and waits  
as She turns and held the sword  
(Her salvation, his redemption)  
against Her throat.

this is what he can only do for Her.

But She relaxes and shakes Her head. She raises her clear eyes, trusting and accepting. She exhales and Her breath is warm against his cheek, sweet against his lips.

_i have seen your future, sakura._

he finally starts. he is resolute to finish this.

"I don't want it."

She wraps her hand around his wrist, and takes it away an inch.

_you shall wander and be less of a human, more of a demon._ he trembles as Her hand is warm,warm and forever warm now. but he can't allow Her to suffer anymore.

"It's okay."

_and you will destroy yourself._ he nearly shouts the last, the last statement to convince Her (or himself?) that for once in his life, he was doing the right thing.

_you stupid girl, _he growls_, let me protect you!_

And Sakura does the unthinkable:  
Her hands create a gentle loop around him,  
Her fingers knot behind his nape.  
She cradles his form on Her arms.  
The rose-painted moonshine creeps in and wraps around  
Them, as (had always been _  
His  
_no matter in what form  
She is and realizing it far too late )  
Sakura says the words that breaks his resolve:

"You don't have to do this anymore."

* * *

**vi.  
game over**

**

* * *

**

_there will be nothing after this._

he almost curses as these words escape. surrendering to their finality _  
_

_nothing. _

_"_But us._" _She laughs in a whisper, which seems to echo the death of his conscience._ "_Only us_"  
_

he desperately needs to regret this.

many things were at risk:  
Her life  
Her new found peace  
Millions of others who will die

because they were not the perfect heroes

they were  
meant to be  
selfish

(_was it wrong to be normal? live in pretenses? forget about  
Demons  
and slayers?_)

She takes a step forward.  
he forgets the visions of  
Her  
broken (_ageless_) body, his crushed (_human_) heart, their bleak (_degenerating_) tomorrow.

Instead, he sees their (_desired_) present.

_so be it._

The sword clatters to the ground.

And in the end,

both of them lived.

* * *

**Even If The World Did Not**


End file.
